


The Aftermath of the Unspeakable

by Elwyne



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwyne/pseuds/Elwyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having witnessed horror, Martha grieves while the Doctor contemplates whether to go on.</p>
<p>Written in response to Arthur Miller's 'The Crucible.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aftermath of the Unspeakable

Martha huddled on the TARDIS floor and wept.

The Doctor's footsteps rang against the metal grating as he circled the console. The ship's familiar noises echoed around the room. But for once that unique sound did not bring hope. It did not bring joy. Not even the TARDIS's own magic could lift Martha's spirit from the depths to which it had sunk.

"Why, Doctor?" she choked. "Why couldn't we stop them?"

"Sometimes evil can't be stopped." He went on pacing, a look of utter heartbreak on his face.

"But they weren't monsters," said Martha. "They were people. Thinking, feeling human beings."

"Yes," said the Doctor.

"I don't understand."

He glanced at her with pity. "Thinking, feeling human beings commit torture and murder. Because they can. And sometimes nothing you say or do will stop them."

"Something has to stop them."

"Oh, yes, eventually something will stop them. Eventually, enough people will get angry enough. Sometimes. Sometimes you have to wait for the dictator to die. And in the meantime, innocent people suffer, and there's nothing you or I can do about it."

Fresh tears welled up in Martha's eyes. She hadn't known the woman long, and hadn't much liked her, but the manner of her death - "It's not right," she sobbed.

"No, it's not right!" the Doctor snapped. "But that's how it is. You get an idea in your cramped little brains, and no power in the Universe can tear it out."

"But we got better," said Martha. "That sort of thing doesn't happen any more, in my time."

"Doesn't it?"

"Well - in England..."

"Are you quite certain of that?"

Martha faltered. There had been a headline in the paper last time she was home, a child sex ring, innocent faces filled with pain - She slumped back against the TARDIS wall.

"Then why do you keep saving us?"

The Doctor resumed his pacing. His steps rang harshly in the quiet.

"It's not just you," he said finally.

Martha looked up in surprise. "Is everyone like that, then?" she said. "Every living thing has its dark side?"

"It's not a dark side," the Doctor spat. "It's all dark. A few species choose to believe in something else, just to get through the day." He turned toward her, eyes blazing. "Sentient life evolves an appreciation for beauty," he said. "It's the only way for an emotional being to survive."

"Coz the truth is... the truth is like that."

The Doctor turned away again. "Life is messy. Brutal, ugly, murderous, painful, and short. Every life form knows this. Only the intelligent ones try to pretend otherwise."

"So what do we do?"

"Do? There's nothing we can do." The Doctor resumed his pacing with vigor. "We hide. We pretend. We look the other way. Because I can't save them all, Martha Jones. Sometimes, I can't save even one."

"But you do save people, all the time. Isn't it worth it for them?"

He shrugged. "I might buy someone a little time. Time to be betrayed by someone else, time for more pain, another death no better than the one I prevented. In the end, nothing changes." He leaned heavily on the console, his head hanging down to his chest. "This is all just a game. A lark, a bit of fun, a thin veil over the horror beneath." 

Struggling to her feet Martha went to him. "It can't be," she said gently.

He shook his head. A single tear glistened on his cheek. She longed to brush it away.

"What about love?" she asked.

"What about it?" He looked up at her, and the grief in his eyes broke her heart. "Do you think those people back there didn't love? Weren't loved? What good did it do them in the end?"

"But -"

"It's all just a pretty lie, Martha Jones. A story told around the fire to keep away the monsters. It can't protect you. It can't protect anyone."

Martha sank into the chair by the console. "I can't believe it."

"Good for you," he said bitterly. "You'll live a happier life."

"No, I mean I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. You're the Doctor. You never give up. You never quit."

"Sometimes I think maybe I should," he muttered. "I've been accused before of running away, by people who didn't know just how right they were."

He turned something over in his hand. Martha leaned in to look. A flattened spheroid of dull metal, delicately etched in precise Gallifreyan script: a chameleon arch. Her breath caught in her chest.

"Where did you get that?"

He gazed at the watch with longing. "It was always there. Just waiting."

"Doctor, you can't."

"Why not?" He looked at her coldly. "Why shouldn't I be as blind and ignorant as anyone else? Why shouldn't I take comfort in a simple life? You humans, you have your work and your telly and your beans on toast, and it's enough for you. Why not me?"

"For one thing, I didn't much like being abandoned in 1913." She snatched the watch from his hand. "For another, you're the Doctor. You're not a coward."

"Oh, Martha Jones, yes I am. I've been running all my lives." He dropped into the seat beside her. "It's all I've ever done."

She knew better than to try arguing with him in that mood. "Where would you go, then?"

"I don't know. A nice cottage somewhere. A backwater little planet."

"Like Earth?"

"I suppose. Someplace with a bit of garden. Maybe a cafe nearby, someplace to sit and daydream." A faint smile spread across his face. "Maybe I'll be a writer again. Make up stories."

Martha snorted. "And that's enough, is it?"

He didn't answer. The smile faded.

"Course not," said Martha. "Not for the Doctor. Not while there's worlds to save."

"I suppose in the back of my mind I'd always wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"Whether I could be doing more."

"Like you are now, you mean?"

He smiled at her, but his eyes remained sad. "Yeah."

"Well? Do something, then. Just something. Anything. Doesn't matter."

He gazed at her for a long moment. Then he leaned abruptly forward, slapped down a lever and spun a dial. "Take us away, old girl," he said, leaning back in the chair. "Take us where you will."

The center column moved smoothly up and down with its signature noise. This time Martha smiled. As the ship began to slow, the Doctor got up, moving around the console with the usual spring in his step.

"Well?" said Martha. "Where are we?"

"No idea. Somewhere there's danger. Somewhere there's injustice." He smiled. "Somewhere the tea's getting cold."

Martha stood up and offered him her arm. "Well then, Doctor," she said solemnly. "What are we waiting for?"


End file.
